


Clarity in the darkest of moments

by Lady_hakunamatata



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-12 06:54:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2099808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_hakunamatata/pseuds/Lady_hakunamatata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically, I decided to take advantage of a rush of inspiration, and I sort of rewrote the crucial part in Orestes Fasting and Pylades Drunk? Well, I tried, at the very least.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clarity in the darkest of moments

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this post (http://lady-hakunamatata.tumblr.com/post/94016112782/so-my-mom-just-came-to-my-room-and-told-me-what ) I decided to develop the idea. I know it's not necessarily what it says here, but I tried. Believe me, I tried.

All around him, it was chaos. Blood, bodies, death everywhere he turned his head to look. For an instant, he thought of his friends, his brothers, all gone. Standing, alive, it was only him, and although it should have been some kind of relief, it was the complete contrary. The thought of death seemed alluring now, standing in the far corner of the upper room of the Corinth.  
If the restlessness of the past twenty four hours had any drastic effect in his resilience, he didn’t show it. Perhaps it was his nature, righteous and proud, who wouldn’t let him follow his fate in any other way but standing tall.

  
He was going to die, and he assumed it. He had done so a long time ago. Perhaps since it all began. You could say this was exactly his purpose, his fate, his mission in life: he had been born for this, he was supposed to die now, and he would certainly know better than to argue with it.  
He inhaled, deeply, and his chest swelled with all the confidence he had inside, as if it was concentrating there. He stood tall and imposing, almost resembling the majesty of a lion: ready and unafraid to face his opponents.

  
He was patient enough to answer when he was questioned. No, he didn’t want his eyes bandaged; yes, he had truly killed the artillery sergeant. Out the corner of his eye, he spotted one of the men bring his gun down, muttering something Enjolras didn’t care to even hear. _Get on with it, already._

  
He kept his eyes up front and waited, but the remaining men didn’t fire at him. Instead, a cry was heard.

  
Amongst the pile of furniture and death combined, Grantaire emerged, and he was walking resolutely towards Enjolras. Enjolras could do nothing but keep his eyes fixed on the man walking towards him. _This is wrong,_ he thought. He wanted to tell Grantaire to leave him, but he was afraid that it would be taken with the wrong intention.  Enjolras’ mind raced through the million things he wanted Grantaire to know, things time wouldn’t allow him to explain.  
_Leave me. Don’t do this. I want you to live. I don’t deserve you.  
_ There was no use. No words would leave his lips. The memory of the last words Grantaire heard from him seconds before he went to sleep felt like a slap across his face, they haunted him. He knew no words would matter now. How blind had he been, how stupid! He had been constantly, repeatedly proven where Grantaire’s heart truly laid, but he hadn’t been able to see. He couldn’t allow himself to see the distance this man now beside him was willing to go. For him. And to think he could see it so clearly now, the truth almost unbearably visible. It was all around him, and he couldn’t take it. The thought overwhelmed him. Something deep inside him felt as if it was falling apart. All the sudden realization burdened him, it weighted so much on his shoulders, it threatened to make him fall on his knees. Not now, not ever. Enjolras was determined. He knew it wasn’t nowhere near what he wished he could have given Grantaire, but it somehow felt right at the same time, in a way he couldn’t explain, and anyway had no time to try either. He swallowed hard, and turned towards Grantaire, at the same time as he was asking him “do you permit it?”

  
He barely had time to feel Grantaire’s hesitant touch, palm against palm, and he smiled when he felt it. He looked right into Grantaire’s eyes and gave him the one thing he had always denied him. _Thank you_ , the silent thought came without invitation, but was welcomed all the same, and Enjolras felt that, maybe if it was strong enough, Grantaire would know.  
Then, the shots roared, demanding to be heard. Time was finally up, not for the one, but for both of them.  
Then, there was the darkness.

 

Then, there was nothing.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, I know I ask for this in every fic I post, but since nobody seems to listen, I will say it again, just to keep tradition: COMMENTS ARE WELCOME (roughly translates to "PLEASE, comment and let me know what you think"). Be kind, help a very insecure writer with constructive criticism (and opinions in general, please, do!)  
> Thanks for your time!


End file.
